


Red solo cups and morning quiet

by JoCarthage



Series: Long distances and close calls (2020 phone banking accountability fic series) [11]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fertility Issues, Pregnancy, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage
Summary: Liz and Max are trying to get pregnant, and Liz kind of figured that setting it up as a science experiment would make it feel less awful. Note, this fic is about the testing part of this process, not the sexy part.--This is a fic series where, after each day of phone banking for the democratic ticket in the US's 2020 presidential election, I will write a fic that's 10x the number of calls I made. So if I make 14 calls, I write and post a 140 word fic. If I made 72 calls, 720 words. If you'd like to start phone banking, you can sign-up for a good, comprehensive training here: https://demvolctr.org. We're doing a big GOTV (get out the vote) push this weekend if you're around!
Relationships: Max Evans/Liz Ortecho
Series: Long distances and close calls (2020 phone banking accountability fic series) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970539
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Red solo cups and morning quiet

**Author's Note:**

> I called 50 people in GA last night and 80 more today, for a total of 1131 calls total. I thought I'd finished this series after my 1001st call, but it turns out phone banking was holding back the tide of election worrying, so after taking 2 days to handle my other volunteer commitments, I am back at it.
> 
> If you're squicked out by people peeing into cups, I would not read this fic. It's also my first time writing from Liz's POV, so I'm still getting a handle on that.

Liz kind of figured that setting it up as a science experiment would make it feel less awful. The thing with going through infertility treatment is, it involved a lot of peeing into cups. 5 days a month peeing into cups to see if you ovulated, 5 days a month of peeing into cups 2 weeks later to see if you'd gotten pregnant. All the tests required 'first morning urine,' a phrase which Liz would have paid at least $27.50 to never have had to learn. This all meant the first thing she had to do every morning for a third of the mornings every month was look into a little LED screen before she'd brushed her teeth, to see it say "Not Pregnant" or "Pregnant" or, for the ovulation kit, give a little circle, a little smily face, or a flashing smily face.

Liz was on Letrozol for the five days a month starting at the beginning of her period. The Mayo Clinic's entire side effects page for Letrozole was extensive, but only covered its on-label use as a breast cancer treatment. She'd been prescribed it in the normal way, from a normal doctor, nothing shady there, but there just wasn't much online about what to expect when using it for fertility treatments. The first few months had been rough, never knowing what was a side effect and what wasn't. But five months in, she had a better handle on what to expect. 

But the morning testing. The testing still _sucked_. So, last month, armed with her three degrees and a refusal to let this process be as grim and shredding as it had been, Liz had caged a big stack of mini red Solo cup from Maria, sized like little shot glasses. She'd taken over a corner of Max's bathroom counter -- Max would say "our bathroom counter" but Liz still wasn't sure she'd ever really feel rooted anywhere -- and made a little lab area. There was the flat surface for the ovulation or pregnancy test device; there was the clipboard with the calendar tracking her past ovulation in yellow and periods in red; also on the clipboard were flattened-out instructions for both the ovulation and pregnancy test kits; there was the handmade decorative cup from Maria where she stored her sealed, unused tests; and in the middle of it, the stainless steel tray with its little stack of red Solo cups.

Liz could see the whole set-up from Max's bed, and while she'd been up for an hour reading research for her next project, she still hadn't done the test. It was supposed to be Ovulation Day, but it could be tomorrow too. She and Max hadn't had sex in 3 days, per the doctor's instructions. Well, not the kind of sex where he could get off. She could get off as much as she wanted to, but he was supposed to save up.

Liz was beyond grateful that they'd been able to confirm, after some very specific and in-depth conversations with Kyle and Max and Isobel, that Max's sperm had looked up to the job. Liz had had a diagnosis of PCOS since she was an undergrad, so she knew having trouble having kids was part of living in her body. For a long time, she hadn't known if she wanted them at all. But with things settled down in Roswell, she -- she thought she could do it. Even if she and Max ended-up moving around to follow academic and research jobs, even if things in the world got bad, she'd grown to have a bone-deep faith that she and Max would be good parents together.

It had helped, watching Isobel find Daron and start her own family with him. A few years of being an aunt had let Liz settle into the idea of kids for herself. It had helped even more, seeing Max with his nieces and nephews, seeing how their families came together to help.

No, Liz wasn't worried about the _parenting_ part. She had a Dad who loved her, a sister who was always there for her, in-laws who supported their relationship, and a friend group not even an alien invasion could shake. It was just the getting pregnant part that was tough.

Max was still sleeping, hair tousled and soft. He liked to be up when she took the tests, for emotional support if she needed it; but he missed most of them, since she was an early riser and she couldn't bear to wake him up just in case a little LED screen made her feel like crying. If the test was bad, she'd just come back to bed, tuck herself against his shoulder, and get back to reading her research on her phone until the emotions passed overhead.

So Liz hauled herself out of of the soft white duvets, the quiet New Mexico morning sunlight filtering through the big bay windows. She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and took a breath. She filled the cup, held the little test strip in it for 20 seconds, laid it on the counter without inverting it, washed her hands and set her phone timer for 3 minutes. Then she combed and braided her hair, glancing at the timer; she brushed her teeth, an eye on the clock. With 15 seconds left, she shut it off so it wouldn't wake Max and looked over.

A big empty circle.

She would probably be ovulating tomorrow, then.

She closed her eyes for a long breath. There was nothing quite like having to have sex on a schedule, knowing if either of them tapped out, it would be another month of cramps and tests before they could try again. Still, if she didn't feel like it tomorrow, if Max had nightmares or just wasn't into it, then they'd wait. She knew they would. It gave her a security, knowing she was safe with Max, knowing he loved her for herself and not for what her body could and couldn't do, that meant a lot. That even though she was bearing most of the burden of this process, he would try to help in whatever ways she would let him.

She took a picture of the result; she'd found it helped her keep track.

The first few times, getting an unexpected result had hurt so much. But it was just another science experiment, now. 

She poured out the cup, tossed it and the test, washed her hands again. She took her two prenatal gummies, which one doctor had described as 'helping to create a welcoming environment' like she was a house for sale just in need of better furniture staging. But Rosa had found her a brand that were nice enough tasting that they could have been candy.

Then Liz went back to bed, tucking her chilly hands under Max's arm and breathing in his warm, rainy scent, feeling her whole back relax. It would work or it wouldn't. They would adopt or do something else. She wanted to keep trying, at least another few more cycles, but she knew biology didn't make a family. She knew if this worked or if it didn't, it didn't have anything to do with her. 

She had a long morning at work: a grant report to write, two graduate interns sent to her lab on work study to supervise. She had trials coming up in a few weeks, plus Rosa's birthday and her niece's first karate promotion ceremony to attend.

Without kids, she and Max had a full life. She was happier in her work that she'd ever been, surrounded by friends and family.

Still, she let herself bury her face in Max's shoulder. Just for a minute. Just long enough to remember that everything would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> No good quotes from today, since a lot of people had already voted and mostly wanted to get off the phone after telling me that, but I helped someone figure out how to vote who wasn't sure if she had the right ID and I helped someone else decide he would vote when he hadn't been sure if it was worth it rearranging his schedule. Both really good outcomes, even if they aren't super quoteable.


End file.
